


Build Her A Cake.. Or Something

by melanie1982



Category: Napoleon Dynamite - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fiction, Five Years Later, Redemption, Second Chance, whatif
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23648857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: Five years after the events of Napoleon Dynamite, Summer Wheatly's life has not exactly lived up to her expectations.As she hits rock bottom, she finds comfort and help in an unlikely group of new friends, and many lives change for the better.I *think* it's finished now
Relationships: various
Comments: 5
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

Summer Wheatly was down to her last three dollars and forty six cents.

Rent was due in a week, and she needed to keep a roof over her head. Not just for herself; she had a son to think of now. Her high school friends had largely moved on, either as smug marrieds or studying in far-off, exotic places Summer would never see, like New York, California, or even Boise.

The small-town ways were slowly being eroded by an influx of big-city popular ideals, like tract housing and chain restaurants. The latest such arrival, MegaMart, had run Summer's former place of employment out of business, her boss haivng accepted a cash payout (bribe) to shut down and ship out. That day marked her last shift. As a generous severance package, each employee had been allowed to take one basketful of items, and Summer had chosen only a few toys for Andrew, luxuries she wouldn't be able to afford any time soon.

Don was long gone, too, making the most of a football scholarship somewhere in Pennsylvania. The night of senior prom, he'd promised to love her forever, and, swept away on a tidal wave of emotion and giddy optimism about the golden path the two of them would walk together, she had given in to her teenage lust. Mere weeks after that sole night of passion, on graduation weekend, all it had taken to drive a permanent wedge between them was the appearance of two faint blue lines on a ninety-nine cent ValuSave pregnancy test. His parents had moved away, too, leaving behind the first of what would probably be several carelessly sired grandchildren. 

All her teenaged dreams - becoming a professional cheerleader and traveling the country with Don's team, winning as many beauty pageants as she could before she aged out, or even getting married and running an in-home business - had evaporated. All of her friends had begged her to take what they saw as the easier options - get rid of it or give it up - but Summer hadn't caved. Her parents had let her know throughout her life, in ways both big and small, that she was the unwanted mistake, the should-be son, the glue which had held two otherwise resentful and ill-matched people together for eighteen years, and Summer refused to be a sad statistic, following in her parents' rut. This baby would be hers, and hers alone; she would raise him, love him, and teach him to be bigger than his circumstances.

As she walked aimlessly, her vision blurred by tears, she found herself at last facing a storefront she hadn't noticed before, right at the far end of the main drag. The freshly-painted sign read "Dulce Besos." Summer vaguely recalled the meaning of 'besos' from Spanish class, and, judging by the rows and rows of sweet treats on display in the storefront window, she put together the rest of the puzzle.

Walking inside, she hung back near the door, peering at the menu. What would Andrew like best? Lord knew he needed to gain some weight; the kid was so small for his age, no matter what Summer fed him. Perhaps a last treat, before the money ran out, before Child Services took her kid from her, or she took a job working the pole at the seedy basement club two towns over.. 

Settling on a loaf of bread and a cupcake, praying that the sales tax wouldn't put them out of her budget, Summer approached the counter to pay. A young woman, barely older than Summer herself, was working the register, and something about her seemed familiar. Summer was about to take a seat with her purchases, to enjoy a mouthful of the warm bread before heading home in defeat, when an old classmate came into view.

Pedro - her one-time political rival, the quiet kid from south of the border, the wild card in the gang of freaks and geeks - glanced over in her direction. Summer looked down, studying the bread in her hands, picking off tiny pieces and chewing them slowly, making them last. When was the last time she'd had fresh-baked bread? When would she be able to afford it again?

She noted with half-annoyance and half-relief that Pedro did not take a second look, nor approach her table. He seemed to be in conversation with the woman working the counter - his sister or cousin, Summer guessed. Nodding, the woman began to portion all the day's leftovers into white paper bags, setting them in a neat line on top of the glass display cases. Intrigued, Summer watched, wondering what strange Mexican ritual this was - some sort of offering to a saint whose name she couldn't pronounce, perhaps?

Customers began to flow in, in ones and twos, with a few families thrown into the mix. Several of them bought items, but many did not; nevertheless, each patron left with a bag of something, and each expressed their thanks, either softly and shyly, or with boisterous Spanish praise. When the cases were nearly empty, Pedro quietly moved around the room, straightening the chairs, wiping tables, and pulling down the blinds which would keep prying eyes from casing the bakery during closing hours.

She gathered her things, ready to leave. It figured, she thought to herself, that the boy whose life she had made so difficult in high school was now running his own business, while she.. she..

Tears began to fall, and Summer couldn't wipe them away quickly enough. Pedro said goodnight to his employee/relative, and she scurried out a back door, leaving him to lock up.

"Hello, Summer. It's good to see you again."

She froze. He sounded sincere; why? Why would he be glad to see HER, of all people?

Suddenly she was stuck in a time warp, all her old habits rising within her. He'd asked her to a school dance once, placing the note beneath a home-made cake and delivering it to her doorstep, and she had taken savage delight in composing her negative reply: "No!", the exclamation marks decorated with hearts. Summer tried to form words to put him in his place, but she was too weary, too worn down.

"I.. um.. Yeah. It's.. This is a nice bakery, Pedro. Congratulations."

He beamed, and she felt sick for a moment, the contrast between his calm, smiling demeanor and her frazzled, tearful one unsettling her.

"I heard about the store closing. If you need a job, I could use the help."

Had he - had he just offered her a job? 

She stared at him as if he had sprouted horns. Pedro looked directly at her, still that soft-spoken soul, but no longer painfully shy. His gaze was steady, open, even warm.

"I.. I.. Really?"

Another smile. "Of course. It's hard to get good workers, and I know you put a lot of effort into your campaign in school. Maybe you could help us make some signs for the windows. You had some good ideas."

A job. A paying job - one which didn't involve spinning around a pole and praying that it didn't break loose from the joists.

Pedro moved with ease to the counter, picking up the last two bags. Summer was still hungry; she was always slightly hungry, truth be told. Her mouth watered as she wondered what goodies were inside.

He handed her one, keeping one for himself. "We don't like to throw anything away. At the end of business hours, we always give away as much as we can, so we can start fresh in the morning."

She stood, completely dumb, her heart in her mouth. 

"Could you be here at six tomorrow?"

Summer nodded, weakly. "Yeah. Th-thank you, Pedro."

Summer knew she'd still have to contend with her landlord to try to beg for an extension, not to mention her phone company, the electric company, Andrew's daycare center.. but, for the first time in a long time, she had hope. It was warm and real, like the bread in her hands, and a few crumbs of Pedro's words echoed in her mind all the way home:

"We can start fresh in the morning."

Maybe, just maybe, she could do the same.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rise and shine

It wasn't like using her old Easy-Bake Oven, that was for sure. 

Bakery work was tough, but she supposed that's what made some foods taste better than others - the amount of effort put into them, the freshness of the ingredients, the skill of knowing exactly when to take something out of the oven... (That last part was a lesson learned the hard way).

The first day found her overwhelmed from the start, and by the end of her shift, she still felt like a loser - but she hadn't been fired. Nobody had called her names or yelled (although Pedro's cousin Consuela had had to bite her tongue repeatedly), and some of her early attempts had turned out to be edible. If the customers noticed a difference in texture or anything unusual about the goods' appearance, they didn't let on. Pedro had spent much of the shift in the back office, going over the books and making and receiving phone calls. Summer's Spanish skills were barely beyond Sesame Street, so eavesdropping had seemed pointless; besides, she really wanted to try not to alienate herself so soon into this new venture.

By Saturday night, she was exhausted, but feeling slightly more competent. Pedro, true to his word, had given her the task of designing some of the interior signage for the store, like a refresh of the on-wall menus, and hand-lettered display case labels. Summer's printing was decent, and she added a few flourishes to make things stand out. Even Consuela seemed pleased, if her friendly grunt of approval was anything to go by. The other employee, Martin, who seemed to be unofficially part-time (and also seemed to dislike being told what to do by his boss), tolerated Summer, too.

Pedro offered Summer Sunday off, and she was sorely tempted, but really needed the money.

"I always give my employees the choice of their day off," he said. "Are you sure? We can get pretty busy after church."

Summer resolved to show Pedro she could handle it. "Yeah. I'll be fine."

Summer had promised to pay her daycare provider an extra fifty dollars to make up for late payment, so, really, what choice did she have?

Andrew was her everything. Any time she felt like giving up or asking to leave early, Summer thought of his face, and kept going. She had adapted to eating mostly the leftovers given to staff at the end of each shift, letting her son have the lion's share of other groceries. If Pedro thought it odd that Summer disappeared on her Wednesday lunch break, coming back with bags of donated food items from a local pantry, he didn't show it. 

Just as Pedro had foretold, Sunday saw the biggest crowds. To her surprise, the after-church customers were about evenly split between Spanish speakers and locals, and none of them seemed to make an issue of sharing the space. A few faces from her past were among the hungry throng, and Summer wondered if Pedro had tried to spare her from the awkwardness of serving people she'd once considered friends. Was that why he'd offered her Sundays off? The smirks and arched eyebrows at Summer working at "the Mexican bakery" had nettled her, but nothing she couldn't handle.

As Pedro closed the blinds and Summer finished wiping down the tables, she tried to work up the nerve to ask him. The words were formed and waiting in a lump in her throat, when he spoke first.

"You did great today," he said, and his eyes shone with such sincerity that she had to fight the urge to look away. Praise directed at her had been scarce these past few years, and this came without guile or ulterior motives. Any boyhood crush Pedro had harbored was apparently long over, and Summer was grateful - grateful to have a boss who didn't mentally undress her or comment on her body, who never called her into the office under false pretenses to try to paw at her. She realized with startling clarity that this was the safest she had felt in a long, long time - maybe ever. 

"Thank you, Pedro," she heard herself saying. Her tone was softer now, and she hoped that sarcastic edge was gone for good. This new version of herself was growing on her, and she wanted to continue in the right direction.

The question was forgotten.

"Here are your wages," he said, handing her a neat envelope with her name printed on the front. Summer gripped it with one hand, feeling the reality of it, excited at the thought of paying rent and at least part of her light bill.

After thanking him again, Summer gathered her things and headed home, where Julie would be waiting with Andrew. Julie didn't normally run the daycare on weekends, but had made an exception/compromise, agreeing to babysit at Summer's place. Ms. Wheatley found her son in the middle of eating dinner, and smiled.

"Looks like I'm just in time with dessert," she said, opening the Besos bag and pulling out a treat.

It was later that night, after Julie had left for the evening, after Andrew had been bathed and put to bed, that Summer sat down to figure out the bills.

There was extra money in the envelope - almost three hundred dollars' worth.

Summer felt suddenly ill. Had Pedro made a mistake? Was it a test? 

With hours to go until morning, she had a dilemma: Use the money and pay bills, saying nothing to her boss? Take the entire amount back to the bakery and figure out what had happened? The old Summer would've spent it without hesitation, but who was she now?

Summer decided that the situation would be easier to deal with after getting some sleep. The envelope sat beneath her pillow, and with every breath as she stared into the darkness, she contemplated the possibilities.

Monday seemed slow, compared to the day before. Pedro was in the office for much of the morning, and the envelope was burning a hole in Summer's apron pocket until lunchtime rolled around.

As she sat at a corner table, preparing to break bread and top it with some of the jam she'd brought from home, Pedro appeared, and she seized her chance.

"Pedro, could I talk to you for a second? Please?" She flushed slightly, realizing she'd forgotten her manners for a moment.

He nodded, heading over to her table and taking an available chair across from her.

"So, I.. um.. The pay envelope was too full." She waited, holding her breath. She was terrified, and couldn't understand why.

His easy smile somehow made the feeling worse. "I decided to give you a bonus. I don't know exactly what your situation is, but I like to give my workers a bonus for going above and beyond. You earned it - all of it."

Summer was dumbfounded. "A bonus?," she repeated, uncertain. "My old job never gave out bonuses. They always told us we hadn't met our targets - but then, they never, you know, told us what the targets WERE..."

He smiled wider. "I know you don't know me very well, but I promise you, I'm not like most bosses."

The office phone rang, and Pedro excused himself to answer it. "Enjoy your lunch," he said, and the gentleness of his tone, coupled with the blessing of her bonus, set her at ease. 

The rest of her lunchbreak was spent on a bank run, and as she got home that evening, she felt a huge burden dissolve into her bubble-bath. Rent and most of the bills were now current, including Julie's back-pay. Summer was determined to show Pedro and the others that she deserved her job, her bonus, and their trust.

As she checked on Andrew for the final time before heading to bed, Summer felt a new sense of purpose. In her experience, it was dangerous to have ambitions, but hope is a difficult thing to kill, and the will to make something of herself had apparently roused from its coma. 

She might fail. She might fall short.

On the other hand, not trying would be worse than any failure she could experience; of that, she was certain.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off the clock

Several weeks into the job, Summer had begun to breathe again, realizing she might actually be employed for the foreseeable future. Consuela and Martin had eventually warmed to her to differing degrees, making shifts much more pleasant. She saved as much money as she could, playing catch-up on old bills and juggling her current ones. It was nothing short of miraculous, and the occasional smirk or snide comment from figures of the past no longer fazed her. Pedro had been volunteering at the community center every Saturday, and Summer had been grateful that her boss trusted her enough to treat her like family - but it was different with him gone. Pedro, quiet as he was, gave the place life, and she looked forward to Sundays when things got back to normal.

Just past the two month mark, Summer finally agreed to take a Saturday off. The others were going to be busy filling a large order for a traditional wedding, and Summer had not yet mastered the finer points of some of the delicate pastry techniques required, so it seemed as good a time as any to get out of their way.

Grateful to spend more time with Andrew, Summer put him in his big-kid stroller and headed to the community center, hoping to borrow some cookbooks to help her expand her repertoire in her own kitchen.

The walls of the main hall were festooned for the next day's wedding reception, but in the meantime, the long tables were undecorated, leaving space for what appeared to be a..

..Cooking lesson?

Sure enough, Pedro stood at the far end of the hall, demonstrating the proper way to shape the dough for bunuelos. The students ranged in age from the very old (most of whom seemed to already have the knack for it), to a smattering of children aged five or under. Each wore an apron with a simple Besos logo, just like the one Summer sported at work each day. Dozens of eager hands shaped the dough, while Pedro called up each participant by name to carefully place their creations into the fryer. The littlest pupils were not allowed to touch the fryer, of course, but they handed over their piles with pride, watching Pedro drop them into the hot oil. Wonderful smells of cinnamon and anise began to fill the hall as each student's bunuelos were extracted for sugaring. 

Summer found herself staring. Andrew, restless and wanting to be free of his confinement, began to fuss, and his mother unbuckled him. He, too, watched, fascinated, as the other children walked carefully back to their work stations with heaping plates of treats. 

She realized with a start that Pedro was teaching a roomful of local residents how to make one of his best-selling items for themselves. Why would he risk sales like that? Summer knew Pedro wasn't charging for the class; looking around, she saw several people she knew to be even worse off financially than she was. What was his end goal?

Pedro waited until the last table of students had achieved edible results before making his way over to her. He had a plate of goodies in his hands, and, looking to her for approval (which she gave in the form of a nod), he offered one to her son.

Andrew's hum of delight made something inside of Summer shift and soften. It took a moment for her to register that Pedro was now offering her the plate. She took one, mumbling thanks, grateful for something to occupy her idiotic mouth. Pedro, having served them first, finally allowed himself to partake.

"Are you having a nice day off?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I came here to borrow some recipe books, for, you know, home. And stuff."

Stupid, she thought. Stupid stupid stupid stupid..

"What kind of recipes are you looking for?"

He wasn't mocking her. He wasn't treating her with an air of, "Cooking? YOU?" He was sincere.

"Uh, I mean, well, Andrew's usually a fussy eater, so, kid-friendly ones. Finger foods, easy stuff," she offered, both of the adults looking down to watch him reaching for a second treat. His chin was dusted with cinnamon and sugar, which was quickly glued into place by the anise syrup. "Though you wouldn't think so right now," she added, laughing.

"We had some kids like that in my house growing up," he replied, smiling at the memory. "Especially after moving here, where everything was so different. I still don't really like potatoes."

At that moment, one of the abuelitas called out to Pedro, and he excused himself, but not before inviting Summer to stay and socialize. "The kids usually get cleaned up and play in one of the classrooms for a while after the lesson," he informed her, and she thanked him again, making her way towards the room he'd mentioned.

After wiping Andrew's face with damp paper towels, Summer showed him the various blocks and toy cars in the classroom's bins.

When the other kids arrived, Summer took a seat along the wall, ready in case Andrew needed her, but trying not to hover. She wished her son would talk, or at least make eye contact with his peers. Still, he seemed content, focusing on his toy car, ramming it into the block towers he'd constructed.

Ninety minutes later, she grabbed a few 'toddler-friendly' recipe books from the communal shelf on the way out.

When she woke up on Sunday morning, she found that she'd missed a spot of the sugar mixture which had taken up residence in the corner of her mouth. Summer hoped the wedding, whoever's it was, went beautifully, although the idea was tinged with sadness, too. Still, she had a lot to be thankful for, not least of which was starting her morning with something sweet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learning

Over the next several Saturdays at the community center, Summer had watched Andrew blossom before her very eyes. 

What had started out as a playgroup gradually became more focused on education, getting kids ready for school (or, for those already in school, helping them catch up to their peers).The other kids in the group accepted Andrew so easily, and all of them had something in common: learning to read, write, and speak English, many of them for the first time. 

Each week, Andrew seemed more reluctant to leave his fellows. They were a wide range of ages compared to daycare, but every time Summer saw that spark in her son's eyes, she knew she'd made the right decision. Pedro and one of his sisters, Marlena, took turns leading the class, while the other would teach cooking lessons in the main hall.

Julie had tried to lure her back more than once, even offering a steep discount, but Summer knew that her child was in good, loving hands. Pedro and Marlena were devoted to their tasks.

Even so, Summer knew the world would be different for her son. The other children would progress in their communication skills, leaving Andrew behind. He'd have to have help in school, extra time and attention; test-taking might be - 

Summer blinked back tears. Be present, she reminded herself. Live in the moment, with gratitude.

Andrew was working on something intensely with Pedro at the corner table while the other children gathered their bags and coats to leave. She held back, not wanting to break her son's concentration. Pedro was guiding him with gentle encouragement, but otherwise not intervening. Summer smiled, hoping it was another picture to hang up in their 'apartment.'

At last, the marker was re-capped, and the pair of them, so different from one another, and yet so in tune, made their way towards her. Andrew held the face of the paper towards his chest, walking to his mother with a solemnity which was almost comical.

"Hello, Summer. Andrew has something he wants to share with you."

Andrew, looking to Pedro and awaiting his nodded cue, turned the paper around to face outward.

There, in thick lines of blue and brown washable ink, were the words 

'Don't be sad, Momy be happy'

Summer's heart skidded to a stop against her ribcage, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

"You made this for me? It's beautiful. It's..."

She was crying again. Her son, her precious, mini-Don of a son, had devised a way to communicate with her. He had found his voice.

The punctuation was wrong, as well as the spelling - but in that moment, Summer would've gladly changed her name to 'Momy,' if that's what it took to claim that message as her own.

"I'm very happy, sweetheart. I'm very, very happy. You did such a good job..."

Andrew allowed his mother to hug him, his paper now pressed between them as he refused to let it go. Despite the fact that his arms did not return her embrace, his body was more relaxed than usual, more accepting of her touch. 

Summer remembered that Pedro was still there. "I don't know how to thank you.. These classes have made such a difference to my son, and the cooking classes have helped me so much. I.." 

Summer realized she had started to feel like a part of a community. The town had seemed changed, but really, it had been HER - her opening her eyes to new experiences, to meeting new people and letting go of the life she'd once wanted and expected. She knew the sign her son had made would take pride of place in their apartment, somewhere she could look at it often. 

Pedro tried to downplay the effect he'd had on Andrew, but Summer stopped him. "No, Pedro - you, you get him in a way other people don't. Most adults won't acknowledge him once they find out he's different. He really responds to you. And, uh, Marlena."

"I'm just happy to help."

There was a moment between them, a moment humming with so many thoughts and feelings at once that Summer couldn't pin any of them down. Several other parents were in the room now, reminding each of them that it was really, truly, time to go home.

"See you in the morning, Summer. Bye, Andrew."

Andrew waved, giving his version of a smile, and Summer's heart melted again. 

He clutched his work all the way home. Summer wished she could take a walk through her child's mind, figure out what made him tick. Now there was hope that, with time and effort, they'd find a way to communicate.


	5. Chapter 5

Things had been humming along nicely. Summer and Andrew had their routine, and each of them was happy, whether alone or together. Summer had even managed to make a decent version of empanadas, using sweet potato as the filling; after getting approval from the taste test panel of Pedro, Consuela, and Martin, she was allowed to add them to the menu - and they sold fairly well. 

Summer had noticed two of Pedro's cousins making frequent visits to the bakery, always passing by her with a silent nod of acknowledgement. She remembered Trisha talking about them years ago, the two intimidating men who had given her and Napoleon a ride to the dance. What a difference a few years made! Gone were the undershirts and baggy shorts; now they dressed in sharp suits, looking to all the world like a pair of successful businessmen (with the small face tattoos seeming to be only a slight anomaly). Pedro was always glad to receive them, so Summer assumed everything was above board.

It was now the last week of October; Halloween was a few days away, and Summer was looking forward to taking Andrew trick or treating at the community center, where everything would be safe and set at a kid-friendly level of spookiness. He had chosen his costume - a chef's apron and matching hat - himself, by pointing. Summer took it as a sign that Andrew, on some level, understood that mommy worked in a bakery - although it was just as likely that he was trying to imitate his hero, Pedro. She was happy, truly happy, and so grateful to be able to give her son some semblance of a normal childhood. The kids at the center were good with him, and most of the adults seemed to understand that he was different, but not less-than.

Opening the front door, ready to start dinner and settle in for a peaceful evening at home, Summer found an envelope on the floor, sitting on top of the regular mail. This one had no stamp, which seemed odd - but, opening it, she realized why.

It was from the landlord, telling them they had two weeks to vacate the premises. Summer took a moment to count backwards from ten, when what she really wanted to do was scream. She had her November rent (which she was NOT going to give to that... man), and a small savings cushion built up. She still had her job - but where would she ever get the money for a security deposit on a new place? Would it be close enough for her to walk to and from work, and to get Andrew to and from the community center? If not, she'd need transportation - or new childcare. There was so much to organize, and it was now the beginning of the weekend; how would she..?

Consuela had given Summer a prayer candle a while back. It had been an odd, out of the blue gesture, especially as Summer had never discussed religion or expressed any particular beliefs, but she had taken it as a sign of acceptance, placing it carefully out of reach of Andrew's curious hands. The image of the candle popped into her mind, and she shrugged, as if saying to the universe, "Why not?"

Retrieving it from the cabinet over the stove, she sat it on the edge of the counter. It was pretty, with a printed image of San Judas, and a prayer printed in both English and Spanish. Summer let it sit, unlit, on the counter, until after the meal and Andrew's bath and bedtime rituals were complete.

She wasn't sure what to do. Something in her urged her to ask Pedro, but it seemed so rude and brash to call your boss on a weekend, especially for something as un-work-related as this. Maybe the center had some books on Catholicism? Not that that helped in that particular moment, but, maybe for future reference..

Opting to improvise, Summer laid her envelope full of money to the left of the candle, and the hand-written eviction letter to the right. Summer lit the wick, and was immediately entranced by the soothing glow of the flame within the glass, illuminating the image. 

She began to read the prayer, over and over, in English, and then, covering her bases, she read it in halting Spanish. The repetition, the dance of the flame, the glow of the image, and the chance to focus on something other than bad news, all set her at ease. When she grew tired of praying aloud, Summer prayed inside her mind, asking for help, a sign, anything. Staring into the flame, a sense of peace enveloped her; somehow, things would work out. It would be an adjustment, but, well, look at how far she'd come in such a short span of time. 

"I don't know what I'm doing," she confessed. "I'm just trying to find my way in the dark, in a world I didn't choose, a life I didn't expect. I just want.."

What DID she want, and, come to that, what was she willing to do to get it?

Summer so rarely stopped to ask herself what she wanted, other than obvious and immediate needs.

"I want a good life for my son and myself. I want a safe, comfortable home, and enough money to not have to worry."

That was okay, but was it enough?

"And.."

Summer picked at a chipped fingernail. The old Summer had always had immaculate nails, but the new Summer had short, working-hand nails, which were often crusted with bits of dried dough; they were a sign of her growth, and that made them beautiful.

"..if it's not asking too much, it would be nice to have someone to spend time with besides my son. I love him so much; I just wish he had someone else to help him learn and grow, someone who would take care of him the way I do, and who would sometimes.. take care of me, I guess. I don't really know what love is; I thought I did, once. If I can't have someone, I understand."

What was she willing to give?

"Oh. If you, um, grant my petition, I will, uh.."

Go to church? Give money to charity? Become a nun? (Whoa; too far).

"I'll paint a mural in your honor."

Where had THAT come from?

Summer hadn't tried painting in years, other than signage. Where would she even start? And who would let her deface a wall with a religious mural? 

Nevertheless, something about it felt right, so Summer let the offer stand.

Saying a quick thank you and amen, she blew out the flame. That night brought no grand visions or prophetic dreams, but there was a sense of well-being, and that was something to be grateful for.


	6. Chapter 6

Saturday meant time at the center, and Summer was grateful. Maybe some of the other parents in Andrew's class would have suggestions - someone needing to rent a room or a trailer or something, or another single mom needing a roommate.

No such luck.

Pedro had been absent, which was odd; Summer had never known him to miss a class, and knew that something significant, good or bad, must have happened to keep him away. Martin did a competent job of teaching the cooking lesson, but it wasn't the same; he didn't have the patience of Pedro, nor the gentle humor. 

Summer was mildly surprised when Marlena approached her as she was retrieving her son at the end of the evening. 

"I bet you're wondering where he is," the woman began.

Summer decided not to play dumb and ask who 'he' was. "I was, yeah. Is everything okay?"

Marlena nodded, excited. "Yes. He's helping our cousins, Fernando and Angel, set up another business."

Summer caught herself about to start stereotyping in her own mind. She derailed that train of thought, suddenly panicky about the bakery. "A new business?"

"A food truck! Now we'll be able to sell Besos products to a larger market." Marlena was clearly proud of her brother, and rightly so, Summer concluded.

"That's wonderful," she replied, meaning it. "Pedro works so hard; I'm glad he's doing well enough to explore new opportunities."

At every mention of Pedro's name, Andrew turned his head from side to side, scanning the room. Poor little guy; he must think the grown ups are so clueless. 

One day down, thirteen more to go. Summer hadn't wanted to burden Marlena with her problems, especially while she was so happy over good news. Maybe Summer could ask to work part-time in the new food truck to raise extra cash; if it was ready soon enough she might get an extra check or two before she and her son were made homeless. 

Andrew still wasn't talking, although on the way home, he did make some sounds. Summer could've sworn the "peh peh peh" was an attempt to say a certain man's name.


	7. Chapter 7

Summer continued to make inquiries about accommodations. Sunday was a dead end; almost nobody answered phones or checked emails then. Monday wasn't much better; there was a place in the next town, but it would mean leaving what little life she'd managed to build for herself and her son, and that was just too terrifying. During lunch on Tuesday, she'd made appointments to go see three different apartments, all back to back, all on Friday. Summer was trying to figure out how she'd find the time, when Pedro approached her at the end of the shift.

"I wanted to show you first," he began, then realized, judging by her blank stare, that he hadn't given the necessary information.

Pedro tried again.

"The food truck; I wanted to show you first."

Ah. 

Despite her own problems, Summer was genuinely happy for her boss and his family, and curious to see this latest venture.

Pedro led Summer to the end of the row of shops, and there stood the most beautiful RV she'd ever seen up close.

Unlocking the door, Pedro led her inside, and she was impressed by the use of the space. There was the kitchen, which had maximized every available bit of space with custom-built fryers, a commercial-grade oven, a top-of-the-line refrigerator, and even a compact dishwasher. Pedro explained that he wanted the option of catering to sit-down events, meaning real plates and silverware were essential, although he had also invested in biodegradable disposable take-out packaging. It was pricier than styrofoam or standard plastic, but she was touched by his efforts at sustainability; most people she knew didn't care what state they left their world in. By then, it'd be someone else's mess to clean up.

"All energy efficient. It's a hybrid RV, so it can run on whatever power source is needed. There's a living area, a bathroom for the workers, and here - " they were now at the far end of the vehicle - "is a place to sleep."

It was decidedly cozy, but absolutely livable. Summer was confused, however, but Pedro wasn't done yet.

"There's another bed that pulls down from here," he demonstrated, showing that there was, indeed, a pull-out bed concealed by wall paneling, as well as a privacy partition to separate the space from the main bedroom.

"It's wonderful, Pedro. Your cousins did a great job."

He beamed. "They were paying me back for a favor I did them. I loaned them the money to record a demo CD, and now they have a contract to do an album. This food truck was paid for from their own success. They prayed to San Judas for the money, and they never expected it to come from me."

Summer felt a shiver run down her spine, hearing the name of the saint to whom she had recently made intercession. "San Judas, huh? Wow. That's - that's great, Pedro."

She seemed a little woozy, and Pedro was concerned. "Are you feeling okay, Summer? Do you need to sit down?"

She shook her head no. "I think I just need some air. Thank you for showing me around, Pedro. I just know you'll make a success out of this."

As Summer emerged into the early evening light, she was perplexed to find Marlena, Consuela, Martin, and the cousins, Fernando and Angel, all smiling at her like fans waiting on their favorite star. Marlena had a calm, expectant Andrew in her arms, and everything seemed to move in slow motion.

Summer reached out to take her son. "What's going on?"

Martin, still a little prickly towards her, spoke up. "Our boss would like you to help run the food truck, and, well, since you're always working anyway, it made sense to have you live at work."

It took several beats of her thunderous heart for those words to sink in. She turned to Pedro, who, for an instant, reverted to that shy schoolboy he had been when they'd first met. 

"It's true. You work so hard, and you help a lot with getting the locals to buy from my bakery. We had a meeting, and we voted for you to get the RV for yourself and your son."

Consuela couldn't resist a slight jab. "I mean, he didn't vote for you to be class president, so he voted for you now. I think this is better, huh?"

Summer felt herself blushing, and her lower lip began to tremble. She clutched her son to herself, trying to stem the tears. "I'll pay you rent, Pedro, I promise. I can't - "

Marlena placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's not for forever. You should save, get a bigger place someday. Your work is your rent."

No one, but no one, had ever been this kind to Summer. Oh, sure, she'd gotten all the perks of being one of the prettiest girls in class, but those perks didn't pay the bills. They faded away, just like every fair-weather friend and foolish dream of her youth.

These, Summer thought - looking from one face to the next, finding bemusement on this one and joy on that one - were her people now.

"I.. I can't thank you all enough for .. for everything."

Pedro handed Summer the key to the front door. She noticed that, during her mini panic attack, he had attached a customized key chain, a little cupcake with the name 'Summer' iced on the top in pink script.

"It's perfect," she sobbed, embarrassing herself. Andrew began to play with the keychain, making the "peh peh peh" sound again.

Summer took in the sight of her boss, his obvious joy at being able to do something for someone else, his gentle patience with her son, his attention to detail. Something tickled at the back of her mind; she was forgetting something important.

"Consuela? Could I talk to you for a minute?"

Pedro offered to entertain Andrew while the girls had a chat.

The two women sat on the small couch in the RV, Consuela looking slightly concerned.

"I.. I lit that candle you gave me. It was a few nights ago, right after I found out we'd have to move. I prayed, just like it said. I even tried to pray in Spanish, to cover all my bases."

Consuela choked on a laugh, urging Summer to go on.

"I kind of.. Well, I asked for a home, which I now have, at least for a while. And I asked for the money to take care of all my bills."

Consuela nodded as though these were reasonable requests from the patron saint of money.

"But I.. I offered to paint a mural in San Judas' honor if he granted my petition."

At first, Summer wondered if she'd said something offensive; Consuela had the oddest look on her face. Then, she brightened. 

"It's not wise to make hasty promises to saints, Summer, but I think I know the answer. Come back outside."

Summer followed. Consuela prodded Pedro, who popped the awning which sat tucked away over what would eventually be the take-out window of the kitchen.

"The awning," Consuela prompted, and Summer realized it was perfect - a blank canvas on which to place any image she desired.

Consuela spoke to Pedro in Spanish, and he nodded, seeming to agree to whatever was said.

"Summer, if you made a promise to a saint, you should keep it. Besides, the mural will guard the RV, and bring us good luck."

Summer recalled something similar being said during his campaign speech, and an eerie sense of things coming full circle gave way to absolute calm.

"Thank you for understanding," was all she could manage.

There was now excited chatter among the group, with Angel and Fernando eager to introduce Summer to their friends who did custom bodywork on cars; perhaps they could help her learn the proper airbrushing technique to complete the mural.

She realized she would have to paint it herself, since that had been her vow, and could do with the practice.

Several of Pedro's relatives were ready to help Summer and Andrew with the move in several days' time, and it was with an air of grateful disbelief that the single mother slid into bed that night.

Sure, it would mean downsizing some of their belongings, but it was a new start. She'd always be on time for work. 

A little voice inside of her laughed, hinting that there was another reason to be excited about the move, but Summer brushed it aside and slid into dreams.


	8. Chapter 8

The crash-course in religious painting was revelatory.

Summer didn't care about the mess, or the wrist-cramps, or the repeated failures. She was determined to see this thing through to the end.

Antonio and Ronnie were skilled artists, and Summer wished she had a car for them to decorate. Andrew seemed particularly at ease around Ronnie, who had a son close to Andrew's age. The two of them had fun playing in their own way, without the need for words. A kind smile and a patient attitude spoke more than any language could.

Summer found herself glad to have a female friend outside of work. Oh, Consuela was great, and Marlena was sweet, but something just clicked with Ronnie (NOT 'Veronica'; never ever Veronica!). Summer was glad that Andrew had found a regular playmate; Alonzo seemed to gain confidence from helping Andrew, and Andrew was showing more signs of empathy and picking up on social cues more than before.

"I've missed this. Just, having coffee, gossiping, being able to relax. It's been a long time.."

Summer trailed off.

"It's not high school anymore," Ronnie reminded her. "You're not that girl anymore. And those chicks who turned their backs on you, they're now buying your pastries, and soon they'll be buying all your other 'foreign' foods," she said with a snort.

"You're right. It's all going so well for me. I just wish I'd been a little nicer to certain people back then, and not so nice to others."

Ronnie's gaze slid over to the kids playing. "Well, 'being nice' to the wrong guy got you a great kid, just like it did for me with Alonzo."

Antonio chimed in, "I heard that!"

Ronnie balled up her napkin and threw it in his direction, missing. "Who asked you to listen in?"

It was couple's banter; Alonzo's parents were very much in love, and a great team.

"Speaking of passionate love stories and happy endings," Ronnie teased, segueing into what was on her mind, "how about you let me set you up on a blind date? I know a guy who's perfect for you."

Summer smiled into her coffee cup. "Is he my type?"

"Nope," Ronnie replied.

"Well, that's a good start, since I go for losers. But, I just don't know, Ronnie; we're so stable now, I don't know if it's right to bring anyone new into my son's life. I mean, it would be selfish of me."

Ronnie rested a hand on Summer's, getting her full attention. "You deserve to be happy. YOU, Summer Wheatly. You. Deserve. Love."

Summer felt something inside of her reaching up, a flower leaning towards the sun. She so wanted to believe.. 

Ronnie could tell her friend was unconvinced. "Just think about it, okay? It's normal and natural to want to share your life with someone."

Summer knew that, but any man she let get close to her would have to be able to check off every item on her list before she'd risk introducing her son.

"Maybe light a candle about it. I have a good one for that; hold on.."

Another candle? Could lightning really strike twice for me?, Summer wondered.

Ronnie disappeared, emerging with a smaller candle. This one bore the image of a beautiful female saint, or so she thought.

"Le Virgen de Guadalupe," Ronnie explained.

Summer arched a brow. "The Virgin Mary helps people find love?"

Ronnie shrugged. "I mean, she never picked any losers, right?"

That was true. Mary had been, in a sense, a single mom, and had gotten a decent man to marry her and help her raise her son. It made sense.. kind of.

"Mama Mary is the go-to for so many things. She's easy to talk to; just try it."

Summer's nominal Mormon background was pushing her to reject this, but San Judas had helped her, so..

"Alright. Thank you. I'll try."

She was almost ready to paint the mural on the awning; they just needed to come up with a name for the new business, leaving room for the logo underneath the image.

Summer had a lot to think about, and a lot to look forward to.


	9. Chapter 9

The awning had been carefully removed and laid flat on several layers of drop-cloth. Summer had sketched the rough outlay on paper, and now had to figure out how to get it to scale on the space allowed.

Under Antonio's guidance, she had begun to layer the colors for the background, her hand only trembling a little as she did so. So far so good.

The name had been agreed upon earlier in the day, but nobody would tell her what it was; they were waiting until the last minute.

"No pressure," she laughed, beginning the outline of San Judas' face.

By the end of several hours' efforts, it resembled the image on the candle closely enough that Summer felt she had satisfied her vow. That just left the logo for the new business.

Pedro and the crew arrived, a freshly-made stencil in tow.

Summer amused them by reading it aloud. "'Siempre Verano.' That's beautiful. What does it mean?"

Her boss smiled. "Well, remember when you ran for class president, you said you wanted to win because then it would be Summer all year long..?"

A few chuckles sounded from the peanut gallery.

"'Siempre Verano' means 'always summer.' I think it sounds classy, don't you?"

She smiled. "It definitely sounds better in Spanish," she conceded, and a collective whoop of approval went up from the crowd.

After placing the stencil dead center beneath San Judas, Pedro stepped back, letting Summer put the finishing touches on their new venture.

"Perfect," she sighed.

Everyone else agreed, although they saw, more than Summer did, just how perfect things were.

\--------------

The food truck was a hit, especially among the farming community and their not-so-seasonal workers. Not having to go into town to get something hot and nourishing was a godsend, and the RV also allowed the leftovers from the storefront bakery to be delivered to those without the means to pick them up.

Andrew seemed to enjoy RV life, and Summer was relieved to have a smaller space to keep clean. Still, it was lonely at times. The candle ritual had become a nightly fixture, always after putting her son to bed, but she was beginning to accept that perhaps even San Judas and "Mama Mary" weren't going to send her someone.

Ronnie tried every few days to convince Summer to agree to a blind date. The businesses were going well, and Andrew was his own version of happy; Summer knew it was worth a try, at least once. If the date didn't go well, maybe Ronnie would drop the issue.

New Year's Eve was a big deal at the community center, with a lot of the locals choosing to sleep on site for the night after hours of snacking, chatting, and, for the adults, imbibing grown-up beverages (in moderation, of course). Summer was glad that the kids would be separated into small groups for the sleepover, and knowing that Marlena would be in charge of Andrew's group gave her peace of mind.

Ronnie promised to find a way for a private date to take place within the same building, and, knowing how stubborn her friend was, Summer didn't doubt her ability to pull it off.

It was nice, buying a new outfit to wear on the date (something she'd wear at other times, too, of course), and fixing herself up more than she did on a typical Saturday night. Looking at herself in the mirror, Summer could see a glimmer of the young woman she'd been, but softer now, inside and out. The woman looking back at her was stronger, smarter, and, most importantly, kinder. 

Ronnie led Summer to the center's main kitchen, where the date was set to take place. Since all of the party food had been placed in the main hall, the kitchen was off limits - to everyone else, that is.

A table for two had been set, with twin candlesticks gracing the center. A vase with water, but no flowers in it, stood between them, which seemed odd, but Summer decided someone must've forgotten, or maybe winter had killed off the only available flowers in their small town. What did it matter?

Ronnie wished her friend good luck, then scurried away into the shadows. Summer waited, nervous, wondering if she'd been stood up. When Pedro appeared, she felt instantly calmer - then, mortified that he'd know (or ask) why she was there, all dressed up, her hair styled for a night out..

When he smiled, she felt her stomach give a little flip. As Pedro moved towards her, the flip turned into a series of somersaults.

"Hello, Summer. You look very beautiful tonight."

She froze, floored.

When she didn't move or speak, he tried again. "Happy New Year." Pedro was offering her a rose, and it was a stunning shade of purple, unlike anything she'd ever seen. Dazzled, she reached out for it.

"Thank you, Pedro. It's lovely." 

Summer placed the rose in the vase, entranced by its color in the light of the candles.

He moved to pull out her chair for her, and Summer, grateful to avoid stumbling, sat down.

She looked at him across the table after he took his seat. He was wearing a suit, a more grown-up and sophisticated version of the one she recalled seeing him wear to the school dance. This one was a dignified dark gray, much nicer material, and his white shirt was freshly ironed. The bolo at his neck would've seemed ridiculous on most of the men she knew, but somehow, it suited him. 

"If you're not comfortable with this, I'll understand; I mean, we work together," he said, in that same gentle, patient tone she'd come to love.

Love? That was a dangerous word...

"So, you didn't set this up?"

Pedro looked her directly in the eye. "Ronnie told me she wanted me to be happy, and that she knew of a woman she thought I'd really like. That was all I was told. She didn't tell you I would be here?"

Summer shook her head no. She believed him, that it hadn't been his idea. She was going to have a talk with Ronnie - possibly kill her - but that could wait.

"Ronnie arranged for Consuela and Martin to do the cooking and the serving," Pedro went on. "I hope the food isn't too spicy for you."

Summer grinned. "Is that a dig at me, or my people, for not being able to handle spice?"

Pedro grinned back. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant.."

She laughed. "Oh, no. No no. It's on now. I can eat whatever YOU can eat, mister."

This was fun. It was.. easy. Natural.

Was this how it was supposed to feel?

The first course wasn't too bad, and it was hard for him to see her sweat in the dim light. By the third course, however, Summer was regretting her earlier bravado.

"I think they're trying to poison me," she joked, wheezing.

Pedro was equal parts concerned and entertained. "Let's hope dessert is something to bring down the heat."

Martin delivered the final course with a smirk, leaving the covered dish on the table for the pair to reveal.

As Pedro lifted the lid, his face fell.

"Oh, great. Let me guess - the spiciest thing ever made, right?"

Pedro pursed his lips. "Nooo, it's not spicy... It's just.."

Summer glanced at the serving dish. "Well, what is it? What's the big deal?"

Martin reappeared with two steaming cups of coffee and a mock bill.

Pedro came clean. "Mexican wedding cake."


	10. Chapter 10

They ate their cake (which was delicious, and only spiced with cinnamon, which Summer was able to tolerate, no problem) and drank their coffee. 

The nerve of some people! WEDDING cake!

"You know, Summer, a lot of people wish they could go back in time and do something differently. As I look at my life now, I don't have any real regrets. I think sometimes things have to go wrong, so that something better can happen instead. If we'd been friends in school, our lives would be so different now. Maybe better, but maybe not."

She could see his point. "Yeah. That makes sense, Pedro. I'm.. I guess I'm not sorry about how things went then. I'm sorry I wasn't kinder to people."

Pedro knew she meant his circle of friends in general, but mostly him.

"A lot of people weren't kind to me then. It's taken those experiences to show me I needed to be stronger, smarter, and work harder. Now, those same people come to me to make their cakes for weddings and parties, or to get the leftovers to feed their families. I don't hold a grudge against anyone."

She knew it was true. The man didn't have a vengeful bone in his body. He was grateful for the hard times, because they had helped shape him into the man he was today.

Summer looked at him then, simply as a man. If he hadn't been her boss, she decided, she would've kissed him.

"I know this isn't supposed to be a business meeting, but I've been thinking about letting you take over Siempre Verano. You know, buying me out. I really want to focus on the bakery, and on my work here at the center."

Summer almost choked on her coffee. "Are you serious?"

"I mean, it's the home you prayed for, and your name is already on it. I think if you apply the skills you've learned, you can make the business as big as you want. It would also mean you and Andrew could travel, if you wanted to."

Leave? Leave her town, her friends, and her..

well..

..her boss, whom she just happened to be falling for?

"I.. uh.. That's incredibly generous of you, and I'm honored that you have so much faith in me."

She *had* been spending more time working there than in the bakery, but, the date was going so well; why was he trying to push her away?

"Summer, if you go into business with yourself, I'll no longer be your boss."

Oh.

OHHHHH.

"Pedro.."

"You don't have to give me your answer now. I'd really like to spend some time with you outside of work, and, well, I don't want you to feel that you owe me anything because of our working relationship. If you want things to stay as they are, you're welcome to keep working for me. I just thought maybe.."

Summer reached out a hand, placing it on his, which derailed his power of speech. "Pedro?"

A pause. 

"I quit."

He relaxed into a wide grin as he realized what she'd just said. He was offering her the chance to run her own business - a business 'from home,' just as she'd dreamed of as a young girl - but she was offering him something even greater: the chance to be truly happy.

There would be paperwork, of course, to transfer the food truck over to Summer; Pedro always did the right thing, even when it hurt him - financially, emotionally, physically.. Well, the physical pain he could do without. Maybe there was a remedy for that, right that moment.

"Purple roses symbolize love at first sight. Maybe it wasn't love back when we met in school, but, the day I saw you crying in my bakery, I knew you were meant to be in my life."

Summer didn't know what to say, so she did what she should've done, and what she'd been dying to do, for some time - months, at least; maybe longer.

She leaned over and kissed him. 

Somewhere in the center, several adults (and the few kids still awake) were chanting "Happy New Year!"

The bakery started fresh every morning.

Summer Wheatly had gotten a fresh start for the new year - a chance to find her happily-ever-after with someone she'd dismissed in her foolish youth.

"I knew cake would work to get a girl; I just didn't know it would take so many of them," Pedro teased.

"The cake you left on my doorstep wasn't as sweet as you, Pedro."

They kissed again, and it tasted like coffee, cinnamon, and hope.


	11. Chapter 11

It had been a full year since the day Summer was given a job at Dulce Besos.

There had been many prayer candles lit since then, and several more minor miracles along the way. The greatest miracle of all, as far as Summer Wheatly was concerned, was finding the man of her dreams, and realizing he'd been there all along.

Siempre Verano, now under Summer's exclusive ownership, continued to turn a tidy profit, and the extra income it generated allowed her to pay for autism services for her son. These sessions, coupled with school and time around Pedro and his extended family/friend network, had put a light in Andrew's eyes and helped him begin to come out of his shell.

Summer, too, had benefitted from getting to know Pedro's large, tightly-knit crew. Besides picking up a little Spanish, she had taken classes through the local Catholic diocese to see if the faith was something she felt she could handle.

Dating Pedro had been so easy after getting over the initial awkwardness of ending their working relationship. They still saw each other all the time, and were in a unique position to give each other professional advice based on their experiences. There was no rivalry; a large percentage of their customer base overlapped, and each of them rejoiced in the other's successes.

Summer finally knew what it felt like to have a family. Affection, laughter, and endless feasts were wonderful, life-affirming, and fabulously exhausting.

When Pedro had asked her to meet him at Besos after closing, Summer figured he had an anniversary date planned to celebrate their paths crossing. She had been partially correct. 

Any notion of a romantic tete a tete was dispelled by the sight of her dear son seated at her favorite table, working on a marker-and-paper project.

"Pedro?"

At the sound of that name, Andrew began to visually scan the room. Not spotting his target, he resumed his task.

Summer approached the table, peering over the top of her son's head to see what he was focused on.

"Those are very pretty, Andrew. Are those jewels?"

Andrew made a certain sound which, Summer had learned over the years, usually meant the affirmative.

The boy drew two circles side by side, placing them under the jewels. Next he drew a cross, which warmed Summer's heart; Andrew had been paying attention during church lessons, and had remembered that symbol of faith well enough to reproduce it.

The cross was soon sitting atop a box, to which he added windows and a door.

"Oh, the church. I see."

When Andrew began to draw roses, putting minute detail into the delicate petals, Summer felt herself welling up.

"Flowers? For me?"

Pedro emerged from the office, holding a bouquet of roses. Summer smiled, not sure which ones were more precious: the two-dimensional ones from her son, or the live, freshly-cut ones in the hand of the man she loved. 

"Thank you, Pedro. They're lovely."

"I wanted to talk to you about something, but I felt like your son should be here, too."

The way Pedro looked at Andrew with such care always made Summer feel so safe - and incredibly lucky.

Pedro seemed nervous, and Summer tried to remain calm, offering up a quick prayer inside her mind.

"Okay. I had something to talk to you about, too."

They sat down on either side of the table, with Andrew sitting next to his mom. Pedro, ever the gentleman, invited Summer to go first.

"I've been giving it a lot of thought - and prayer - and I've decided I'm ready."

Pedro was unsure for a moment, but when Summer tugged at the slim gold chain around her neck, revealing a beautiful crucifix, Pedro understood.

Summer confirmed it. "I'm ready to convert. It just.. It fits. It's like a piece of my puzzle - my work, my home, you, your community, and now, faith."

He seemed to relax at her news. "I'm so happy for you, Summer. My faith has brought a lot of good into my life, and I know it will do the same for you. It also helps a lot with what I'm about to say."

Pedro slid from his chair, landing carefully on one knee. "I know when you were a little girl, you probably imagined what it would be like to have someone propose to you. I'm sure you didn't picture it happening in a bakery, and I'm sure the man in your mind didn't look like me. I only hope that you'll give me the chance to make you as happy as I can for the rest of our lives. You and your son mean the world to me; I actually talked to him about this before I decided to ask you."

Summer's heart was in her throat, making it difficult to speak. "What did he say?"

On cue, Andrew looked up and began to repeat "Peh, Peh, Peh, Peh." That about said it all.

Pedro smiled at him. "I think he approves."

They'd taken things slowly, keeping it all PG rated. Summer admired Pedro's patience - the patience of a saint, really - and the level of respect he had always shown her, even when she hadn't deserved it in the beginning. 

"Pedro, it doesn't matter what I thought I wanted or needed; I was wrong. This isn't the life I would've chosen, but now that I have it, I wouldn't change it for anything. I wouldn't change YOU for anyone."

They sealed the engagement with a kiss, and Pedro turned the lights back on and unlocked the front doors. 

Summer was confused. "What's happening now?"

"I told them that, no matter what answer you gave, I'd serve everyone cake."

Pedro's friends and family began to file in, chattering excitedly.

When Pedro responded to Fernando's inquiry, a cheer went up: "Ella dijo que si!" 

The crowd began to chant back: "Si!" "Felicidades!" "Me alegro mucho por ustedes!"

Marlena went to the back to retrieve the cakes, and Summer pulled Pedro aside.

"What were you going to do if I said no?"

He grinned. "I had some 'no' cakes prepared, just in case. I'm glad you said yes, though; these cakes are much nicer."

Andrew took great delight in smashing his fist into one of the 'no' cakes, and the other kids took equal pleasure in grabbing handfuls of the mess and shoveling it into their mouths.

Everything was better with cake, wasn't it? 

Everything.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter, a la the bonus scene of Napoleon Dynamite
> 
> Because who doesn't love a happy ending?

Six months later... 

Mrs. Summer Sanchez was exhausted, but deliriously happy. The house was almost ready for the newlyweds to move into; it was modest, but cozy, and the two of them had really enjoyed planning every detail together.

Work at Dulce Besos and Siempre Verano was going well, and Andrew had adjusted to all the changes so far.

Pedro was looking forward to starting the new class at the community center. Upon arrival, he was overjoyed to see some familiar faces he'd missed for so long.

"Napoleon! Debbie! It's so good to see you!" 

"We finished our awesome tour of all the other states," Napoleon said, unprompted. "Deb took some killer photos for our book. I'll give you guys a copy if you want; I could even, you know, draw you an original piece of artwork on the inside cover."

Debbie was so proud of her husband and his artistic success. His doodles had found an audience after graduation, and he'd set himself a goal: to draw original pieces of art while visiting famous landmarks in each of the fifty states. Deb had pitched the concept for a book to small local publishing house, and the two of them had set off on an adventure as best friends and coworkers. Napoleon had proposed somewhere between New Hampshire and Maine. The pair had opted to marry in Alaska under the glow of the Northern Lights, and so their life together had officially begun.

"It's good to be home," Debbie sighed. "Got anything to eat around here?"

Pedro showed his friends to the refreshment table. 

Kip and LaFawnduh arrived shortly after. Summer vaguely remembered them from years before, but it was nice to get a chance to introduce them to the new, improved version of herself. In the stroller Kip was pushing was a mini Dynamite, complete with curly hair and a Rex Kwon Do t shirt. Summer was enchanted, and little Darius seemed to like her, too - especially after she handed him two polvorones rosas.

Once everyone had arrived and snagged some free Dulce Besos and Siempre Verano goodies, it was time for the class to begin.

Uncle Rico's girlfriend, Tammy, was teaching the class, her loose floral smock neatly concealing her growing bump.

"Welcome, everyone, to our first session of 'Preparing to Parent.' My name is Tammy, and most of you know my other half, Rico Dynamite."

Everyone present made a polite gesture of acknowledgement to the blushing Uncle Rico.

"Now, I want everyone to pay close attention to this video. Napoleon, would you please dim the lights?"

Napoleon, feeling like a school boy once again, shuffled over to the light switch while Tammy adjusted the picture on the AV tv set at the front of the room. Returning to his seat, Napoleon reached for his wife's hand. Her bump was small, but he was already obsessed with sketching it, as well as drawing portraits of what their baby might look like.

Kip and LaFawnduh had been through this process before, but it didn't hurt to take a refresher course. Besides, it was a way to feel part of the community, and a chance to have a 'date night' without needing a sitter.

Pedro rested a hand on his wife's belly, marveling at the blessing of impending fatherhood. He was already planning the welcome-home menu, the first-birthday cake, the holiday cookies they'd someday make together... He was secretly hoping for a girl, while Summer was open to whatever they received.

As the video became more graphic, swelling music overrode the sounds of labor, making it all the more dramatic.

"Women are so amazingly strong and brave," Kip breathed, earning a smile from his wife.

"I'll be right by your side," Pedro assured his lady love when she winced at the reminder of what was to come.

Napoleon continued to hold Debbie's hand, even as her other hand reached for another cookie.

"Incredible," Napoleon sighed.

That about said it all. 


End file.
